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This story follows the first in Jenn’s Rediscovered series, Last Assault on Oak Island.
Later that evening Rybak stepped into the dim antique shop. He caught the brass bell before it could tinkle.
The shopkeeper inside looked around the ancient cash register to the man at the door. The customer was nothing but a silhouette in the poor lighting, hard and lean, but as he moved into the shop, the shopkeeper saw more.
Minus sunglasses now, the man's stony face housing an eye that failed to move was obvious and the good eye was pegged on the counter.
The shopkeeper felt he should know the type. One hand went below the counter shelf to a revolver hidden out of view.
The new customer crossed the room when he spotted the shopkeeper in the filmy light.
"Guten tag, kamerad," Rybak said in a low tone with a thick Polish accent. "There was a young woman here earlier. You gave her an address."
He kept both hands on the wooden counter, but this did little to ease the shopkeeper's mind. On one of his fingers was a gold and amber ring that glinted in the small lamp's light by the register. The old shopkeeper's lips moved as he recognized one of the engraved words surrounding the center stone. Danzig.
"I remember her," he said, meeting Rybak's gaze. "So few customers today, you understand."
Rybak's smile was purely mechanical. "I'm not going to ask you want she wanted." A short laugh. "It's a gift for her mother and me, but I don't think she has the funds to cover the price completely; not with the cost of an American university again this year. I'd like to help, but I don't want her to know."
The old shopkeeper smiled, happy to be wrong about his previous thoughts. His hand eased from the gun under the counter and he reached for a pad of paper on the desktop at his elbow. "Admirable of you. I hope she can find them."
Rybak nodded, watching as the man wrote an address on a slip of paper. "Much appreciated."
Carlos and Lauren sat in the coffee house tucked into a corner away from the morning customers. She had seen glimpses of the report in his hand, but it was not until he wordlessly gave it to her that she understood his silence.
He drank his coffee slowly, having graduated to a stronger brauner, watching Lauren's eyes move over the page quickly.
She looked at him with a sigh. "You were right."
"Copal."
She nodded. "Recent resin." She reread parts of the page again. "The copal slugs St. Petersburg turned down."
"Not necessarily, but fake nonetheless," he agreed. "A dangerous gamble for Gudhoff to exchange an original with copal. I'm more inclined to believe he is ignorant of Fredericks' sleight of hand in maneuvering."
She folded the paper. "On to Salzburg?"
He nodded and stood up. "I'm going to tell Gudhoff we won't be bidding. Get two train tickets for the next available departure."
She exhaled slowly as the curator left. She sipped her coffee, but found it suddenly too bitter and set it down. Someone had gone through a lot of trouble to acquire the copal pieces and create the illusion of repackaging them as the original amber. Gudhoff's assistant Fredericks was the primary choice, but not the only prospect. Gudhoff could actually have both, the amber and the copal, and choose to try selling both as the genuine Amber Chamber elements.
Of course, he could only sell the fake to an unsuspecting buyer—certainly not to Carlos and the museum, she knew—but someone may fall prey to the ploy. So far the telltale smell of the potash had proved a reliable authenticating factor.
She stood up, wondering if Fredericks was innocent of Gudhoff's fake or the mastermind behind the switch.
She collected her bag and left a tip, not noticing Rybak sitting at the corner table following her actions.
She checked her watch. On to Salzburg.
Arriving in the City of Music was not without difficulty. The temperature was higher than both the seasonal average and Vienna in general, needlessly compounded by the wall to wall shift of people that moved through the streets. Carlos and Lauren stepped from the nearly three-hour train ride from Vienna to be inundated with sounds of a dozen languages and strains of Mozart's various works in Salzburg.
The streets were busy with people attending the Mozart Festival's final week, but the excitement of the celebration hadn't diminished. Lauren would have liked to explore the streets if the panels hadn't taken priority. As it was, they secured accommodations and found Fredericks' antique shop only to discover it closed for the day.
Carlos sighed, an unusually dour expression on his face. "Open tomorrow at ten," he read from the sign on the door.
Lauren squinted to see through the window, then glanced to the sign listing the shop's times of business. "He should be open now."
The curator nodded and looked around at the thick pedestrian traffic clogging every alley and street. "I don't relish the thought of going back to that musty hotel room so soon."
She nodded in agreement.
For a while they wandered with part of the crowd heading to one of the better outdoor concerts. They listened to what they could from a modest beer garden. The aroma of fresh semmel reminded Lauren that they had missed lunch earlier.
As music from Mozart's Elvira Madigan drifted over the arbor gardens, she estimated the frustration in Carlos' face as they sat down. "You like this trip, don't you, Dr. Sheldon?"
A brief smiled flicked to his eyes. "Yes. I do."
A waitress came then to take their simple order, leaving a carafe of new sweet house wine when she departed.
"You like the Duke, too," Lauren said.
He nodded. "I respect his responsibility to the antiquities in his possession, but I don't envy his labor. It's one thing to acquire." He shook his head gravely. "Quite another to willingly part with a treasure."
"It's better than watching an ingrate assume their possession." She didn't like the gravity of the conversation and sought another topic. "I found a couple of good shops in Vienna yesterday." She tasted the red wine, finding it plumy. "One had an Imari vase that we saw at the Red Jade auction. Probably fake, but pricey."
"Danke," Carlos said as the waitress reappeared bearing a tray of food. The aroma of the semmel was a hearty contrast to the wine. "What else did they have? Anything of interest?"
The waitress smiled and left with a nod from him.
Lauren's fork severed a piece of the stuffed hot roll on her plate. "A gaudy candelabrum. Regency era, gilt, with an obscure coat-of-arms. A few buffet tables and rosewood shelves. Oh, they had a beautiful Queen Anne gilt-gesso table with cabriole legs and claw and ball feet. It was exquisite. I took a card in case Dr. Karen was interested."
She didn't add that the little Chinese Coromandel lacquered cabinet she'd found would have been at home in Madame Varlette's Oriental Room. It made her think of the bombe chests and their outrageous prices, and that made her realize she was reducing everything to money. Again.
She took a bite of the stuffed roll, savoring the flavors of cheese, tomatoes, wurst, and greens. For a moment both she and Carlos were occupied with their plates. After the first few bites, she noticed the man at a corner table requesting a berry syrup for his beer.
The bread and filling stuck in her throat. She gulped the sweet, potent wine.
Yes, it was him. The thick mustache was absent and he wore dark glasses, but it was him—the man from the bakery window in Vienna.
"That must be common here," she told Carlos quietly, using the topic as an excuse to lean closer to him. "Adding juice to beverages. I saw a man putting it in that mild coffee at the shop in Vienna, the kind you called soft coffee."
He was oblivious to her rapt attention on his plate. He kept eating. "It's popular in the larger Austrian and German cities."
She frowned and stabbed a piece of the semmel with her fork, sticking it closer to his plate. He looked up at her. "Have a bite of mine," she offered more loudly.
He took the hint and her fork. "Yes?"
"In fact," she said softly, "it was the same man sitting behind you. Sunglasses. Needs a haircut."
He didn't turn around, fingers twisting the fork with the bite still on it. "My left of yours?"
"Mine."
He ate the bite and gave her a single nod. Before she could say a word, he rose and made his way to the outside tender near the eatery's entrance, inquiring stridently about the facilities.
Lauren kept her eyes low, concentrating on her wine as Carlos made his distraction. The growing swell in her head made her think better at finishing her glass in a last swallow and set the remaining bit down. She cut off another piece of the roll on her plate, her peripheral attention on the man she was not looking at.
The waitress arrived with complimentary squares of apple crumb cake and Lauren took the opportunity to glance at the man. His height was indeterminable sitting down and his brown hair was ordinary. His face was hidden behind the glasses and a mug of beer.
Her gaze flicked to Carlos as he returned.
"Thank you," he told the waitress as she left the table and he sat down. "He was at Fredericks' shop earlier," he said to Lauren as she looked at him. "I thought he may be the proprietor, the way he hovered nearby. I don't think that's the case." He spread a pale mustard he'd brought back on the few remaining bites of roll on his plate.
"I think he was on the train, too."
"I believe so. Keep eating."
She took another bite.
"Did you see the ring he's wearing?"
She made a stiff attempt at not looking at the man as she shook her head.
"It's signatory of the Amber Guild of Danzig established in the fifteenth century, original carvers of the panels."
She swallowed hastily. "Then he's one of the other parties contending for the panels."
"Most likely."
"He was following me yesterday in Vienna. I thought it was my imagination." She drew a mental map of northern Europe. Danzig was Gdańsk on Poland's Baltic shore, not far from Kaliningrad. The castle there had been the Amber Chamber's last home after being looted from the glittering Tsarskoye Selo. "Do you think he's from the government or a private interest?"
"I'm not sure it matters, considering Poland." Carlos took a long drink of his wine, studying her. "Looks like Tolchov isn't our only company."
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